Notes, or What's with the logo?

Hello.

Quite a few things to get to today. (Reader comments, my logo, the origin of this blog's name a fascinating baseball story, not one but two internet endorsements, and the amazingly incredibly amazing U.S. Soccer team.)

- First, I've changed my settings so that you don't have to sign-up for anything to leave a comment. I'm sorry I didn't do this earlier. Imagine me writing this blog as a kid inheriting his dad's car, and every once in a while he hits a button by accident and goes, "Hey, it's got windshield wipers!" I'm still learning. (Another example would be that I'll start making my links open in a new window, so you won't leave the site when you click on something.)

I encourage you to leave comments. In fact, I insist. Who the hell are you, and what are you doing here? Surely I've written something by now that you either agreed or disagreed with. Let me know about it.

My only request is that you keep it relatively clean. Although I don't think she is at present, it's entirely possible that my grandmother could read some of this someday. So if you write something obscene, I'll find out who you are send it to your grandma.

- In a rather obvious Editor's note, I've updated the site with a logo. It's not going to win me any awards, but I think it's a step up. I'm especially proud of the the header because I did it, and the only thing I've ever successfully drawn in my life was a conclusion.

I'll cover the subjects in the logo one-by-one eventually, but just so we're clear (clockwise from top left): Satchel Paige, George Gipp, Bill Russell, Jim Thorpe, George Best, Hunter Thompson, Elliott Smith, Earnest Hemingway, John Steinbeck, Bob Dylan.

For me, that's the list. There are obvious exceptions, people I wished would fit -- Pele, Sugar Ray Robinson, Steve Nash, Pedro Martinez, Mos Def, Dennis Bergkamp -- but if I look at my life in terms of writing and sports, those guys at the top of this page are the who and the why.

But there are a few things that I noticed as I picked my essentials. Apparently I like them to burn bright, especially when they're young. Some of them burned for a while and somehow sustained. (Dylan, Russell, Steinbeck, Paige.) Others burned, and, though they seemed to have survived the flames, could not stand to see the dimming of their own fuse. (Thompson, Thorpe, Hemingway.) Booze killed Gipp senselessly one night in 1920. It did the same thing to Best, though it took decades to do so. And at the age of 34, Elliott Smith took his own life in 2003.

I do not claim to share any of the things that makes me admire these men. But all I want, all I've ever wanted since I knew how to want something, is to burn bright, if only for a while.

- Just to knock this one down, Elliott Smith should get credit for naming this blog. "Needle in the hay," is a perfect and perfectly sad little song about drug addiction, and I wish I had a good reason to use it for the name. My best explanation is that I think it might be the best thing he ever did, and if you know his work like me, that's enough.

- Now, the Satchel Paige connection. It seems that the two of us both did a stint in the same town. And, incredibly, it was not Washington, D.C. Not once, but twice, car dealer and equal-opportunity baseball man Neil Churchill used cash and a free Chrystler to lure Satch to Bismarck to play minor league ball.

According to this account, the first time this happened was in... get ready for it... 1934.

That's right. North Dakota -- a state that usually seemed to me to have about as much color as crust-less Wonder Bread -- was integrated more than a dozen years before the bigs. Those, by the way, would have been the 12 years where Satch would have made his case as the greatest pitcher of all time.

Instead he was stuck inside of Bismarck with the Mobile blues again.

- To the internet we go.

I had written previously about how badly the New York Times was screwing up it's Page one podcast. Turns out, somebody was way ahead of me. The Washington Post has been doing a "From the Pages of the Post" podcast since January of last year. Go get it. Then listen to "The Sole Survivor" from last Monday. (Or read it here.)Please, get to this story before some big team of awful Hollywood writers gets to it. Go get the real thing.

- On a related note, I'd also covered youtube, and how companies should embrace it -- and profit from it -- instead of fighting it.

Well, thanks to the good folks at CONCACAF (North American's soccer conference), the message of those words has served me well. Though I can't watch the Gold Cup because I've dropped the Fox Soccer Channel, I can now see extended highlights courtesy of the concacaf channel of youtube. Now, this is America, and this is soccer, so not a lot of people are tuning in. But can you imagine how many people, on a worldwide level, would watch the NFL, NBA, and MLB if they did the same thing?

- So, now to disect those highlights. We finally gave up a goal to Panama in the quarters. But it was late, and we were up 2-0, and they caught a lucky deflection when Oguchi Onyewu poked at it. No excuse, I admit.

But watching this game, it should have been 3 or 4-1, and it could have been five or six. I know, that's not a good sign, to not be finishing your chances. But that's a lot better than not having those chances.

I've been watching the U.S. closely since about 2000. And as far as technical skill, creativity, and team speed, we've never been this entertaining or this good. Suddenly Demarcus Beasley, Clint Dempsey, Benny Feilhaber, Brian Ching, Landon Donavan, Taylor Twellman, even Oguchi Onyewu -- all of them -- can make that all-important short or long pass to put a teammate in open space.

And we're spending so much time with the ball that other teams are hardly even getting a look at the goal.

Let's go back to January. Bradley's first game in charge saw a patchwork U.S. team facing what was essentially Denmark's back-up team. Denmark took the lead in the 37th minute, and the Bradley era was off to a nightmare start.

We went on to score three goals that day. Then we beat Mexico 2-0, and then Donny hit-up Ecuador for the best hat trick in U.S. history in a 3-1 win.

Then we played a boring 0-0 draw againast Guatemala. But since then?

4-1 over China, 1-0 in a Guatemala rematch, 2-0 Trinidad and Tobago, 4-0 over El Salvador and 2-1 over Panama. Between China and Panama, we went, let's see, FOUR HUNDRED AND TWENTY SEVEN MINUTES without giving up a goal. For all the Americans who rip soccer for not having any scoring, this is ideal: we're scoring, they're not.

For the year, we've scored 21 goals and given up three. One tie, eight wins, and we're not going to lose to Canada or Mexico in this tournament.

I just, I can't make this more clear. We're so, so good right now.

For me, the most telling moment of this tournament may not have been a goal or a tackle. Here's the scene: Late in the game, we're up 2-0. Donny took a long pass over the defense and fed a wide-open Clint Dempsey in front of goal.

10 years ago, any player on the U.S. soccer team would have shot immediately, and probably scored. Instead, Dempsey took a touch, faked a shot and ditched a defender before losing the ball to another one.

He should've scored, yes. But this, this foolish mistake, is a great moment in United States soccer. This was a moment of Dempsey's inherent creativity and flair and cojones leading to madness.

But, as they say, genius and madness are neighbors, and sometimes they bump into each other when they both leave for work in the morning.

And that's how I know this team is so good: I would never have been compelled to write that sentence three years ago.

That'll do it for now.

Back soon.

Notes, or "Jesus. That was bad."

Hello. Been a while, and I apologize duly.

Coming soon, my big NBA thing on the playoffs, the MVP, etc. I figured I should wait until the season's done for that. Also, I'll talk about the terrifying Kevin Garnett situation and how wrong I was about the Timberwolves. Because that's what I want to be about here: accountability. If I get something right, I'll let it stand as such, and if it's wrong, I'll have to take another look at it.

Speaking of accountability, I'm going to write the requisite Don Imus blog. I must. But, and I'm pleading with you here, I promise I have a viewpoint you probably haven't heard anywhere yet. Really.

Now, a couple of endorsements.

- One, for Wikipedia. This seems to be a point of great contention among the learned peoples in this country, and almost no one falls in the middle. I'm coming out in support of it, if for no other reason than the sheer ambition and scope.

When they did a study last year, I was shocked to find out that Wikipedia was not a wide base of information coming from a small group of academics, cocaine addicts and mental patients. It was instead being generated by a huge number of people.

And now it's closing in on 2 million articles, just in English. Two million. It's an encyclopedia that is updated daily, and the variety of things on there... well, just hit the "random article" button some time, and you'll be shocked to find out what's on there.

I just did it, and was taken to a rather detailed account of Nureyev's life. And not Nureyev-as-in-the-Russian-dancer Nureyev. Nureyev the horse, which (who?) earned about $40,000 and sold for about $14 million. Nureyev, the mildly successful horse from the late 80's.

I know now that Nureyev sired at least 135 prizewinning horses, and I'm sure a number of other horses that just lived off dad's bankroll. And when you think about hundreds of children in around 20 years, we can assume Nureyev spent most of his adult life thinking, "Why the hell did they have me running around in circles when I was a kid? This is so much better."

The entry for the American Civil War on wikipedia runs 14,000 words long, and I think the footnotes number more than 80.

Think about it. The entire planet is writing a research paper. If nothing else, it's a nice thought.

Now, what bothers me about the site is the part that tells me to "sign up" with the promise of more security and anonymity. This does not mesh with my accountability policy.

So long as people are allowed to post on wikipedia under nicknames and with secure identities, the site will be in constant need of fixing. The good news is that it seems to happen. People point out inconsistencies, and opinions, and entries tend to get truer, and longer, and better-referenced as time goes on. But there's no need to protect anybody's identity.

Just who would have a valid reason for hiding who they are while making a wikipedia entry? I can only assume it would be someone posting with an agenda, and those kind of entries don't belong on the site. Now, wikipedia's only been around a few years, so we can assume that Nureyev (1971-1998) was not typing his own entry.

But if you consider that the damn horse has hundreds of kids and grandkids out there... at least one or two of them has to have internet access.

The pont is I never thought once about writing my blog under any other name than Mike Mullen. I don't plan to write anything if I don't want my name next to it.

Now, you can either contribute to wikipedia or stay away from it. But what you shouldn't do is try to discredit it.

If there are things that are important to you, if you value the integrity of certain people or things, then protect them by looking them up and helping to research and edit the page. Name, please.

By the way, here's what I would do if I was a college professor in journalism or research of some kind. I would walk into class on the first day, size everybody up, and point at one student.

"He/she is in charge," I'd say. "Your assignment, as a class, is to clean up the content of wikipedia.org to the fullest of your abilities. You will keep detailed notes and footnotes, including what the article said prior to and after your edits. I don't have office hours. I'll be back in April. Good luck."

And then I would take a few months and learn to golf.

- Now, a few sports notes and then I'll get out. Today's reason you should like soccer is John Terry/Peter Crouch, which sounds like two reasons, but they've united to become one super-reason.

I'll introduce these players like you don't know them, because you don't.

Terry is a talented and relentless defender who plays professionally in London for Chelsea. The team is in this season's title chase, and dominated the past two English seasons, mostly because of its defense. And since Terry is the heart of that defense, and England is the best league in the world, you can make the argument that he's the best defender in the world, and plenty of people do. And, though he looks dapper and seems friendly and talks with an English accent, he's got a bad temper, and he'll stare down anybody on the field, and his teammates' affection for him borders on admiration. (Translation: he's Brian Urlacher.)

Crouch is... Crouch is Yao Ming, plain and simple. A big, giant (6-7) skinny creature, the Liverpool forward is not outrunning anybody, but outsmarting them and overmatching them with well-timed quickness and of course size. He's the easiest target in soccer. You just aim a little too high, and he's the only one with any shot at getting a head on it. But he's also shown the ability for incredibly athletic finishes, including a pair of overhead kicks this season. He also matches Yao in the gentle giant thing, and he's never anything less than friendly.

On February 24 and 25, respectively, Crouch and Terry each got kicked in the face while playing. Both were accidents, both players dipping a bit too low in an attempt to head the ball, both trying to nod it into the net for a goal. Crouch's incident left him with blood pouring from his nose, which was broken and would require surgery.

What's perhaps most interesting to you, the unknowing, is that Crouch's incident did not surprise me. This is a player who does something regularly that is so selfless and reckless, I've hardly ever seen anything like it. It goes like this: other team rolls ball back to its own goalie, who strides up to take a real whack at it, hard enough to send it sometimes 100 yards. And Crouchy, all 6-7 of him, runs right at the goalie, jumps, and throws, you know, HIS HEAD at the ball, which would probably be going 80 miles an hour at this point. He's willing to take a point-blank shot in the skull on the outside chance that it goes off his head, into the goal, and does not simaltaneously kill or maim him.

Peter Crouch, folks, missed a few weeks after a surgery on his nose, and came back with a great hat trick last weekend. And he's still throwing his head around like he doesn't need to take it home at night.

When Rob Hulse accidentally kicked Crouch in the face, it was one of the most stunning things I'd ever seen in sports. It was disgusting.

And what happened the following day to John Terry, during the Carling Cup Final, was so, so much worse.

Abou Diaby, a big, strong, talented midfielder for Arsenal (London's second-best team), appeared to kick as hard as he could in trying to clear the ball from a corner kick. But his foot, at full speed, hit John Terry square in the face in a way that... well, I saw it, I saw a replay, I never need to see it again and I will never be able to get it out of my head.

I will defer now to the ESPN.com Gamecast, which is a moment-by-moment account of current sporting events.

"Jesus. That was bad."

I swear it says that. It was that kind of thing.

John Terry, 27, is a national figure in England. He has a wife, and in May of last year she had twins.

In the 58th minute of a soccer match on a beautiful Sunday afternoon, John Terry dropped to the ground motionless and swallowed his tongue.

Take another crack at that last sentence. I can wait.

A few minutes later, Terry was being given oxygen and Diaby was in tears. Terry was stretchered off in a neckbrace.

Now, because of all the time spent on Terry's situation, the referee added 10 extra minutes to the contest, and because it was the final of a tournament, and because Chelsea won, the team was at the stadium for a while, longer than they normally would have been.

Before they had the time to leave the building, John Terry checked himself out of the hospital and came back to celebrate.

This happened on February 25, and on March 14, less than 20 days later, John Terry played all 90 minutes of Chelsea's game. Since March 14, he has played 630 out of 630 minutes, and Chelsea has won all seven of those games except one, which they tied. They've given up only four goals in these games, all of which are crucial for Chelsea.

I'm not trying to say that Peter Crouch's broken nose and recovery should make you love, or at least respect soccer players.

Nor should you respect soccer players just because John Terry took THAT kick and came back to the stadium, and to the field, so quickly.

But Petr Cech, the world-class goalie behind Terry, playing with a head-pad since January because in October of 2006 he took a knee that fractured his skull?

At some point as an American you will be at a bar, or in a coffeeshop, or in the line at a gas station, and someone will be talking about why soccer is not a sport, or at least not a real one, or at least not one for tough guys.

You don't have to say anything to this person, and really, don't waste your time. But you will know better.

All right, that'll do for today.

What follows is another re-post, this one from my days as a high school columnist. I tried out for the basketball team as a senior and wrote a giant column on it, which ran over a two-page spread. Really, it's enormous, and it is essentially my first draft. And that's the kind of thing you can do when you're a columnist and a co-editor of a high school paper. And I enjoyed that freedom so much, and it set me back so much as a writer, that you can now find me blogging on the prestigious internet.

This time, I don't have the final version on my laptop, so I'll at least be re-typing a lot of it, which is sort of like writing. Of course, I'd prefer not to retype it.

A horse, a horse, my kingdom for a horse.

Thanks for reading. If you haven't yet, scroll down and meet Bob Schulte.

Further notes, or What's with all this news stuff on BBC?

Hello.
A few things.

CORRECTION - I shouldn't have been calling the weather man "Chubby," or even "chubby" for that matter. As a friend of mine likes to say, that's like making fun of Rush Limbaugh for being fat. By joking about his weight, I took away from the salient point, which was his stupidity, or someone's stupidity, in thinking that a second-hand report of a phone call made for compelling televison. Run a scroll, we can read. Anyway, it was wrriten out of a temporary anger, and I'm already sorry that it was so malicious. I apologize for the error in judgment, which is an oddly spelled word.

Then just one thing I forgot. If anyone out there is a fan of books, or movies, or news, they should chase down the following news cycles and their history.

First, the Russian spy agent who was poisoned while meeting with someone to obtain information about his own government. This is the start to a book by Robert Ludlum, or Tom Clancy, or someone else, but this time it's real. Keep looking around, and you realize strange and bad things are happening to reporters and other interested parties. This is serious stuff. And those movies (based on Ludlum and Clancy) do very well at the box office, yet we hardly hear about this story anymore. I have, however, seen the Bahamian Minister of Tourism's father on television, to speak about Anna Nicole Smith, and those two kids who were cruelly rejected from American Idol.

Another story to get into is that of the British coach Bob Woolmer, who coached the Pakistani cricket team. The team lost to huge underdog Ireland at the Cricket World Cup, and it should be mentioned in this sentence that cricket has had serious problems with gambling and match-fixing in recent years. Later on in the night, Woolmer was found dead of strangulation. This is Agatha Christie and two dozen rip-offs, although, again, it's real.

Here in America, these stories will get covered as interesting little British stories. Quaint, even. And isn't it an odd game, cricket? It's like baseball, isn't it? Now then--

WHERE WAS LARRY BIRKHEAD THE NIGHT OF JULY 21, 2002? FIND ME THE FATHER OF THE BAHAMIAN MINISTER OF TOURISM!

But if you read about either of these two stories, you realize their weight. In one case, a man, well-liked, with a wife and two boys. In the other case, several people.

They're dead. Innocent, good people, some of them it seems very brave and decent people, dead. And we should morn their loss, and find out what happened.

I'm not saying it should be splashed all over the news. I'm just saying keep an ear out, and when a good reporter takes a crack at a book on either of these things (and, in the KGB case, lives until publication), go find it and read it. Or wait for the big-budget movie that gets made.

Also, read things by Erik Larson. And get some sleep, my God, you look like hell.

Goodbye.

-Mullen